Saturday, June 14, 2014

BLIND DATES ARE MAYBE NOT THE ANSWER!

For those of you passing through and not taking cognizance of the pure literary genius a mere click away, here is a little taster below that I've plucked from Chapter four. And if you're wondering what is going on it's something to do with a blind date from hell, but that's all I'm saying. Get the book! It's only 2-99 on Amazon! Cheap as chips, and worth it's weight in gold. Well that is what I've been told ; )

Here goes...

Start of Ch 4

To be fair, delusions of
grandeur quashed, close up he wasn’t too
bad. This Angie valiantly concluded as the car pulled away from
the litter-strewn apocalypse. At least, nothing that wasn’t fixable, especially
these days, what with the onslaught of self-enhancement programmes such as Gok
and Trinny & Suzannah, or that hoity-toity blonde with winged glasses whose
name escaped her at present.

Teetering on this observation, Angie
mentally catalogued his potential as they hurtled out of the crumbling estate
and headed east towards the A47. For starters he could quite easily dispense of
the facial hair and ponytail (both clearly an over-compensation for the lack of
same on top) and with a quick fashion change, high-quality rug, built up shoes,
head transplant.

Okay!

Alright!

What was left of Angie’s optimism
plummeted. Not only was he the creepiest, most revolting man she’d ever set
eyes on, but he was clearly committing the cardinal sin of wearing crocks over
socks.

Oh Gad, why oh why hadn’t she insisted
on a sneak preview? If she’d done that, like Matt suggested, none of this would
have happened. Still, it was a bit too late in the day for that now. Now was
the time for damage control, or rather to take
control, because clearly from the constant rustling noise behind (Hazel
pretending to tidy her already clinically immaculate handbag) there clearly was
zero bonding taking place.

Time for a sneak peek.

Neck rigid as a poker, Angie, rolled
her eyes clockwise, did a quick scan then rolled them counter-clockwise again.
Honestly, if Hazel could put any more distance between them she’d be perched on
the sodding bumper. And if nothing she could at least spark up a conversation
with the poor sod. Apart from a monosyllabic grunt when he stumbled his way into the back, she
hadn’t uttered a single word since.

The air in the car was so thick you
could slice it with a hacksaw.

And Matt wasn’t helping either.

Angie tried to snag him, but he was
all poker-faced and staring rigidly ahead, the only vital signs of life a little tick on the side
of his jaw every few seconds.

Typical, just bloody typical.

Oh it was no use. As usual it would
have to be up to her to save the day.

Grafting a smile on her face, Angie
twisted round and peered cheerily though the gap.

‘Everything alright back there in the
stalls?’

Hazel impaled her with a homicidal
glare then went back to her frenzied ferreting.